O Sole Mio-o-o-o!

O Sole Mio-o-o-o!

If you have a hankering to hear some of the fabled Neapolitan folk songs -- the canzoni napoletane -- performed, you might be lucky enough to catch the city's top troupes, such as the Cantori di Posillipo and I Virtuosi di San Martino, at venues like the Teatro Trianon. But most every night at the city's more traditional restaurants, expect your meal to be interrupted by a posteggiatore. These are singers who aren't employed by the owners, but who are, nevertheless, encouraged to come in, swan around the tables with a battered old guitar, and belt out classics such as "Santa Lucia," "O' Surdat' Innamurate," "Turna a Surriento" (Come Back to Sorrento), and, inevitably "Funiculì-funiculà." Of course, these are but the most famous of a vast repertoire which found worldwide fame with the mass exodus of southern Italians to the United States in early 20th century. "Funiculì-funiculà" was written by Peppino Turco and Luigi Danza in 1880 to herald Naples's new funicular railways. "O Sole Mio," by Giovanni Capurro and Eduardo di Capua, has often been mistakenly considered the Italian national anthem. "Torna a Surriento" was composed by Ernesto di Curtis in 1903 to help remind the Italian prime minister how wonderful he thought Sorrento was (and how many government subsidies he had promised the township). If you've got a fave, and want some baby Caruso to warble "Bella Notte" (from Walt Disney's Lady and the Tramp, remember?), the singers are more than happy to do requests, even inserting the name of your innamorato/a into the song. When they've finished they'll come and stand discreetly by your table. Give them a couple of euros and you'll have friends for life.